Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Our first visit to St. Thomas, aboard the S/S Norway in May of 1992 was an exciting, romantic adventure, far more than than the second time we stopped by this popular Caribbean port of call in the U.S. Virgin Islands twelve years later.

The S/S
Norway at anchor, St Thomas, US VI, May, 1992

The tenders on board the S/S Norway

Charlotte Amalie, the bustling little island city capital of the U.S. Virgin Islands hadn't changed between our two visits, the difference was simply our perception of the popular tourist port-of-call because of the ship we first arrived on, the romantic S/S Norway, and how we went ashore. The harbor at Charlotte Amalie was far too shallow for the SS Norway. At over 1000 feet long, designed for
trans-Atlantic crossings, the S/S Norway drew 35 feet of water. Many
of her Caribbean ports of call couldn't handle her deep draft. She usually
anchored off-shore and used her self-contained tenders to ferry
passengers ashore.

We still reminisce about the first time we went ashoreaboard one of the Norway's tenders, the smaller motor vessels carried on the forecastle on the Viking deck of the cruise ship that acted as water taxis to ferry passengers from the ship to the docks. Dramatically chugging in to the harbor on a tender from the S/S Norway was far more exciting than when we visited Charlotte Amalie the second time in 2004 aboard the S/S Star Princess, which docked easily and quite undramatically just a few feet from the Havensight Mall.

The Little Norway, one of the original tenders, still in service for NCL at their private island, Dec 2014

The memory of watching the Norway outside the harbor, waiting for our return is still vivid. The Norway's distinctive, beautiful line and the ocean-blue hull were her trademarks. She stood out in every port of call.

Ilse on
the bow of the tender returning to the S/S Norway, St. Thomas

The S/S Norway wasn't designed for basin cruising, so when Norwegian Cruise Lines acquired her in 1979, they removed two of her four engines. She no longer needed to maintain the 35 knots she displayed on her sea trials and on her trans-Atlantic crossings as the S/S France. Toodling around the Caribbean at 11 to 15 knots would be more in line with the new requirements. Besides, the newly mandated incinerators would fit nicely where the two, no longer needed engines were located. The Norway continually received upgrades and modifications to keep her abreast of the expanding cruising market. Time however, was her biggest enemy. As money squeezing became more of a science than an art form in the cruising industry, the Norway became an anachronism. The new ships carried more passengers and did so more cheaply. Plus, they could visit ports the Norway couldn't without the expensive tenders.

S/S Norway at anchor, St Maarten, 1992, with a tender alongside.

The
Norway docked at the Port of Miami's Dodge Island every Saturday.
She came in with the first light of day, and sailed again by 4:30pm
or so, on yet another seven day cruise of the Caribbean. She
discharged and took on just under 2000 passengers in that short time.
By today's standards, that is not even worthy of mention, but in
those pioneering days, it was quite a feat.

She was the biggest cruise ship in the world when we cruised on her, and one of the finest. She didn't have the balconies of today's massive cruisers, but she had full width windows on the ocean-view staterooms that had been added by the early '90's. The hall carpets had a subtle pattern that pointed toward the bow in case you got confused in the interior of the ship. The two dining rooms, the Windward and the Leeward, were exceptional, I have not seen any on the ships we have cruised on since to rival them.

The Promenade on the S/S Norway

We watched the Norway for many years before we finally sailed on her. We saw the beautiful, blue-hulled epitome of leisure cruising every Saturday during the 1980's as my daughter, Monica, sailed at the Miami Yacht Club, just the other side of the thin ribbon of asphalt known as of MacArthur Causeway from Dodge Island terminal where the Norway was moored. We were there from 12:30pm to dusk every Saturday as Monica practiced sailing her Clearwater Optimist Pram, and eventually, her Laser Radial sailboat.

Monica practices in her COPCA pram at the Miami Yacht Club, 1984, with the S/S Norway at anchor at Dodge Island

Every Saturday evening we watched the magnificent SS Norway sail out Government Cut, headed for unknown exotic ports of call. It was Monica's first major Laser regatta on a blustery, windy day in early December, 1985, that made an indelible impression with us about the Norway.I was assigned to drive a chase boat for the Miami Yacht Club along with Joe Zibelli, whose son, Tony, was also sailing a Laser Radial in the annual Mid-Winter Youth Regatta. Fourteen Laser Radials started the first race of the regatta, a special round-the-islands race that had become a tradition for the young Laser sailors at the MYC regattas. The race was not only extraordinarily long, but included a long section down busy Government Cut, all the way from the Coast Guard Station at one end to the turning basin at the other end where the huge cruise ships turn around for their departures from Miami. Our young teen-aged sailors not only shared the Cut with commercial vessels of all sorts, but also Chalk's seaplanes and private powerboats. Not to mention the cruise ships! Because of its special length and conditions, the race counted as two races in the regatta schedule. Whoever scored highly here had an outstanding lead for the remaining four races.

Monica
practices in her Laser Radial with her trademark “Flamingo”
sail, MYC, 1986

The start of the race had one windward mark, then led off east past Hibiscus Island toward Monument Island, where the fleet headed right around Star Island toward the Coast Guard Station on Government Cut. This leg is about two and a half miles by itself, and is a true test of sailing skills. Joe and I were assigned to trail the fleet and assist those in distress.As
the fleet took the starting gun, it became clear there were eight or
nine sailors who had the situation under control and were racing
their hearts out. Some of the younger sailors, those who not
ventured beyond the realm of recreational Saturday sailing, soon
needed encouragement. One young girl gave up completely
by Monument Island and needed a tow. We counted the sails in front of us as they headed
toward the first turn and the reach through Meloy Channel.

Busy Government Cut, Miami, from the deck of the Norway on a typical Saturday morning.

Thirteen
sails! We had one in tow so all was well. As soon as they hit
Government Cut, the Laser sails went full out as they had a dead run
down the Cut, headed directly toward the huge cruise ships that lined
the entire south bank of the cut. As Joe and I slowly followed the
two or three stragglers who had not yet made the downwind turn, we
lost sight of the leaders streaming away from us. As we
slowly made the turn into choppy Government cut with our fledgling racers
some five minutes later, dodging the ferries carrying cars and trucks to Fisher
Island, Joe, who had the binoculars, said, "George, we have a
problem! There are only twelve sails!”

A
quick count verified that indeed, we were missing a boat! We
immediately did a quick sail-number check and my heart stopped, it
was up in my throat: The missing boat was my daughter.

We
didn't have radios to ask for help, so the only recourse was to
verify the tail-enders were in no trouble. We told them to stick
together, hug the starboard side of the cut and head for the basin as
planned, they would have to help each other, at least for the time
being. Joe and I powered off in search of Monica who was nowhere to
be seen. As we raced down Government Cut in the 18 foot Boston
Whaler, frantically searching for any sign of an overturned boat, or
at worst a life jacket in the water, Joe yelled, “Over there, by
the Norway! There's a red suit on the water, waving!”

By this time
we were two thirds of the way down the cut and had already passed one
or two cruise ships on the terminal side. There at the water line,
just a few feet away from the massive blue hull of the Norway, was an
overturned Laser with its red suited skipper standing on the bobbing
hull, waving her arms overhead to get our attention.

The Norway at anchor, St. Thomas, USVI. A required ship lifeboat lowering drill is in progress.

My fourteen year old daughter was as mad as I have ever seen her! As we
finally drew near the huge blue wall of steel, she yelled, “The stupid mast
broke! I couldn't help it”

I'm sure she couldn't see the relief
in my eyes as we maneuvered the chase boat to pick her up and grab
her painter, the line tied to the bow of her upside down, half submerged sailboat.

Monica climbed aboard the chase boat and after a quick,
wet hug, helped pull in the remaining lines trailing in the water. We hauled the broken mast with the sail still attached
into the boat. We struggled to right the overturned laser so we could tow it behind our chase boat. Three or four stories above us a door magically opened in the hull of
the Norway and two white-uniformed ship's officers looked down at us in
wonder. We were so close to the Norway we prepared to fend off to
keep from bumping into her.

Monica sat dejectedly in the back of the chase boat as we got under way, quietly
looking back at the Norway and her disabled laser being towed behind us. I knew she was thinking she would not be
able to overcome a double DNF, Did Not Finish.

Every
time I saw the Norway after that, I thought of the broken mast and the tiny, red-suited sailor waving her arms over her head, standing on a half-submerged sailboat just a few yards away from the largest cruise ship in the world. An image I'll always remember.

Monica at the pre-race Skipper's meeting,
MYC, December 1985

Her competitors had sailed on, leaving her alone to rely on her wits and her training in the middle of the busy, turbulent Miami Government Cut. Not only was I relieved as we towed her boat slowly back around the island, I was also very proud of her. I was fortunate enough to work on the Norway upgrading on-board computer systems and communication wiring several years later. Every time I boarded the Norway, I thought of my daughter standing on her upside-down laser sailboat up against the giant cruise ship. I once walked to the lowest deck of the ship where I could look over the port side of the bow to look down at the water where she had been stranded. It was a long, long way to the water! The Norway is history now, cut up in 2008 on the beaches in Alang, India, where the salvagers found all the magnificent original art work and even the grand piano from the ballroom still on board. Only a small section of the famous blue bow was returned to France to commemorate her original christening as the SS France in 1960. Poor maintenance and upkeep were blamed for an explosion in the ship's boiler room that killed eight crewmen and finally forced the ship out of service in 2003.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Thursday is a great day at sea. The faint, white smoke from the
funnels drifts slowly upward
as it dissipates in the amazingly clear blue sky, staying almost directly over the ship. We are making 11
knots with a trailing wind and a following sea, the sun is shining
and Mother Nature is at peace with the marketing arm of Princess
Cruises. Everything is as advertised.

A really nice way to wrap up
a cruise. We do all the touristy things we think will interest us,
from touring the galley (at least the tour is still free, but they
are hawking a $29 Chef's cook book. Yes, I bought one) and attending
free health maintenance seminars. We tour the ship to see if we've
missed any decks or crannies that are unique, and we head back to the
library to check out one last book. Or was that Friday? No, it had
to be Thursday because we turned the books back in on Friday. That's
what's great about cruising when all goes well: you lose track of
time and that is the whole idea.

Thursday
is the Captain's Cocktail Party, followed by the last of the two
formal dinners. Lobster tonight! Must be Thursday! We take in the
show in the ship's theater, “What a Swell Party,” a tribute to
Cole Porter, but the strain of constantly being on is showing on the
the dancers and performers. The show is a canned, prerecorded
production but it is still a
pleasure to watch the entertainers do their best, even when the
cruise is about to wrap up. They do two shows a night so it isn't a
cakewalk by any means.

Friday
is another laid-back, enjoy-the-cruise day. Weather is perfect and
we head for the theater at 10:30 am for a Chef's culinary
demonstration, followed by the Galley tour. OK, so the galley tour
was on Friday! Award winning Executive Chef Giuseppe de Gennaro and
his comedic side kick, Maitre d' Nicola Furlan, put on a memorable
demonstration of cooking pasta, including the over-the-shoulder pasta
fling to see if it sticks on the wall. If it does, it is ready! It
did, to the delight of the audience.

Some last minute shopping from
the ship's stores, and spending an hour or so standing on deck seven
forward watching the flying fish as they skip away from the ships'
bow wave and one last lunch in the buffet. Tonight the luggage is
picked up from outside your stateroom for transfer to the dock as
soon as we land. Everything you have left goes in your carry-one
luggage or bags. The last call for placing your luggage in the hall
way is 11:00 pm, so we have plenty of time to change after we eat and
lay out the clothes for the trip home.

We
eat dinner one last time, and once again we get to hear Buster
Poindexter.

One
of the few traditions that seems to be carried on every Caribbean
cruise regardless of ship or cruise line is the dessert on the night
of the final dinner, and how it is served. Our German friends were
somewhat startled when the lights in the glamorous dining went down
after dinner and “Hot, Hot, Hot” began to play on the dining room
speakers. The conga line of servers and waiters still wind their way
around the darkened dining room carrying Baked Alaska on their heads,
singing and generally having a good time as they have done on every
cruise we have sailed on. The lights finally came back up and
everyone took photos of their by-now-famous desert. I have never
seen so many different sizes and types of digital cameras! They came
out of nowhere. I think were pulled out of thin air. Everybody
seemed to have at least one!

As our waitress held out the Baked
Alaska we were to be served so we could photograph it, I realized the
rum flambe on top has been replaced with an LED candle. Ahh,
progress! Actually, safety is the reason for the change and it
doesn't affect most the people who could care less anyway. Just
another point of nostalgia for us old cruisers who still remember the
good old days.

As we
finally say goodnight and turn in, we reflect on what has been a
pretty good cruise, especially considering the rough weather of the
second and third days. Tomorrow we will be back in Port Everglades
to disembark.

Will
we be back? Oh, I'm sure we will, we just don't know when or which
cruise ports we want to visit. Only one thing is absolutely certain:
It won't be on the Oasis of the Seas. Having two thousand passengers on a ship is more than enough for me.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A quick thrust met by a beautifully timed, under-the-arm deflection, the encounter was heating up! The old woman pulled her hand back, her gaze fierce. The young, immaculately dressed server, a Filipino girl in her early twenties, waited a moment, then once again graciously stooped before her seated guest to once again offer a canape. The determined adversary paused, then shot her wrinkled hand out yet again to grab the delectable morsel she wanted directly off the serving tray. She had no need for decorum or manners, she only wanted that little sandwich. And once again, youthful reflexes and intense training prevailed as the young server swiftly bolted upright, lifting the heavy tray out of reach while using the tongs in her other hand to deftly deflect the old woman's outreached hand before it could touch any of the Hors d'oeuvres on the serving tray.

This was more than a test of skill versus determination, this was right versus wrong, good versus evil, professional against amateur. This was training and etiquette defiantly defending protocol against ignorance and bad manners. Even worse, this was a battle between two women.The young server's eyes were now half shut in contempt as she held the treasure-filled tray far out of the woman's reach. She waited for several moments, gauged the old woman's next move and shifted her weight in anticipation of the woman's next attempt to snatch one of the offered canapes with her bare hands. This would be the fourth attempt.

The server had already asked for the woman's plate to place her selected canape on, but the woman obviously had never been served before and simply expected to stick her hand in and grab whatever she wanted. The young hostess was determined toserve her guest whichever item she selected, but only properly with the serving tongs.The seated woman was an attendee of the Captains Cocktail Party. That made her a Captain's Circle member, a gold card member, a passenger who had sailed previously on Princes Cruises, and should know better manners. However, she still had not acquired any command of basic courtesy. She sat with her empty serving plate across a low cocktail table from her husband who simply sat quietly and watched. All she wanted was that little sandwich!

She withdrew her arms all the way to her side, appearing to hold her hands in her lap. She waited until her husband offhandedly distracted the server with an inane question, and with lightning speed, shot her arm toward the silver serving tray. With the deftness of a matador fighting a charging bull, the server spun and once again lifted the tray out of the reach of the seated aggressor as if they were an avant-garde play.

Finally, after what seemed like an embarrassingly long, glaring put-down, from a distance well beyond the reach of her seated antagonist, the server rather dramatically pointed with the tongs at the assumed target. The gray-haired woman started to point, then tried once again to pick up the treat she wanted, but this time the serving tongs firmly grabbed the canape and thrust it toward her. She had no choice but withdraw meekly, looking at her prize waiting in mid-air. When the old woman took it with her bare hand instead of allowing the morsel to be placed on her plate, the expression on the server's face first showed contempt, then finally the smirk of victory over a far-lesser foe. Youth and training had prevailed over age and determination, not to mention a complete lack of grace and social training.

As the server turned and moved to the next table, the old woman once again glared at her. I think she wanted seconds.

Aruba looks like a place we'd like to come back to visit.
Even if we took as many excursion tours as possible from the ship,
eight hours wouldn't be sufficient time to see the highlights of the
city or the island. We look at maps and books before we arrive in
any city for the first time, and then usually strike off on our own.
Wandering around in Willemstad and Oranjestad was just fine for what
we wanted. We have done excursions in Grand Cayman, Ocho Rios,
Jamaica and in Tulum, Mexico, and the only one that I couldn't have
done on my own was the tour of the Mayan ruins at Tulum. There are
advantages and disadvantages to every excursion, and we felt we would
do better in both Curaçao and Aruba on our own.
Now we know better what to expect when we come back, and whether we
want to come back at all. We aren't into gambling and partying like
there's no tomorrow, so most of
the “active” resorts aren't what we're looking for. Still, the
weather is great and the water is just about perfect. Right now,
however, we are back on board. Time to just kick back and relax.

As I
look sleepily at the hazy horizon from our balcony, I realize there
are huge oil tankers everywhere. They seem to be motionless, but all
headed south toward nearby Venezuela. I count ten scattered across
the ocean in front of me, most near the horizon or at least several
miles offshore. They all appear to be motionless. Oddly, none are
headed in the other direction. By the time I head up top for
departure, I count sixteen tankers, all patiently waiting. The huge tankers just fade away over the horizon only to be continually replaced by new arrivals. It
doesn't take a genius to figure out the oil business is not going to
go away anytime soon.

As I
head toward the bow, the pointy end of the ship, an airliner passes
in front of us about a half-mile away, headed toward the airport in
Oranjestad. He may be well away from us, but I don't have to look up
to watch him on his landing approach. Passengers on the airliner
must be surprised to come in off the ocean and pass by a cruise ship
at almost eye level.

The 950 foot long Crown Princess made the channel turn with ease.

I
watch as the mooring lines are hauled aboard and the ship's thrusters
gently move us away from the dock. If you aren't watching, you can't
tell the giant ship is moving. Slowly, the ship begins to move
forward toward the port channel marker. The starboard channel marker
is so close I might lose sight of it as the we proceed out the
incredibly narrow channel. Without fanfare or attention, the Crown
Princess gently pushes her bow to starboard as we move forward and we
neatly turn between the last two markers headed for the open sea.
The pilot boat picks up the pilot a little after 5:15pm and we swing
around to head northwest toward Port Everglades, some two days away.

My
wife and I and our German friends head to the Botticelli Dining room
for our 6:00pm seating and another great meal. There are 533 crew
members in the food service and dining staff alone, and we are
thrilled with our waiter, Antonio, and the assistant maitre d'
Alphonse. Antonio and Alphonse have served together for eighteen
years, and their relationship is unique. They are the pinnacle of
dining professionalism in the cruise industry, and certainly make
dining one of the highlights of this cruise.

Our
cabin is on the same deck as the pools, just in the forward part of
the ship, so walking through the pool area is something we do every
chance we get. When we are being serious about walking through the
ship, we take one of the four elevators in the stateroom area and
bypass the pools., but tonight we are leisurely enjoying the music
and the great, warm evening on deck after a great dinner.

A
typical Caribbean 5-piece band plays standard cruising party music,
like Dexter Poindexter's classic “Hot Hot Hot,” which you get to
hear at least once on every cruise, from the mini-deck above the pool
deck. At least this time we're not suffering from 30 different
choruses of “Red, Red Wine,” or “Yellow Bird,” which I now
often hear in my sleep. During a moment of crowd revitalization, the
lead singer screams out for responses to the different nationalities
he calls out. He starts, of course, with U.S.A. The response is
loud and boisterous, yelling, whistling and clapping from all over
the pool deck. Next he calls out United Kingdom! There are enough
responses to make a polite, almost subdued noise that soon fades
away. He then called out Canada! The response is thunderous! No
doubt the Canadians make up the majority of the revelers on the pool
deck! They are one of the few nationalities that get even less
vacation time than Americans, so they must pack a great time in a
shorter schedule. They do love to have a great time.

We take in a late show in the ship's theater and are treated to
an unexpected performance by one of the ship's regular crew. The
Crown Princess does a “Crew Show,” where talented members of the
crew who aren't members of the regular show cast get to display their
talents in the ship's theater. Some were interesting, a few were
obviously amateurish, but one young Indonesian steward gave an
outstanding drum performance, including a nine minute solo, that
brought the house down. The party on the pool deck had subsided by
the time we walked back up, so we watched the stars for a while,
enjoying the cruise with the wind and waves at our backs for a
change. Makes for more fun that way.

When
we enter our stateroom, not only do we not find the bed turned down
as usual with the accompanying mints, but also a White and Blue,
formal looking envelope lying perfectly aligned on the bed. We have
been invited to the Captain's cocktail party at 5:15pm on Thursday,
formal attire required. The invitations to the Captain's Cocktail
Party are reserved for those who have sailed before with Princess
Cruises and are a way of recognizing and appreciating your past
business. We immediately have a problem. We both have reservations
about going because neither of us brought real “formal” wear on this cruise,
although my wife is far better prepared than I. I didn't even bring
a suit, just a blue blazer and one long sleeved shirt that I can get
away with in the dining room. I did stuff a couple of ties into the
jacket pocket, old habits die slowly, but to consider this “formal”
attire for the Captain's Party was a stretch. We decided, “What
difference does it make now, what are they going to do, ask us to
leave?”

So, on Thursday, at the appointed time and place, we got
in line with 1700 other passengers who have also sailed previously
with Princess Cruises. So much for the dress code. They actually
had to have three separate Captain's Parties to accommodate everyone!
The Captain was a busy man that afternoon, and I'm sure he didn't
care how I was dressed. He did give an award to a British lady who
had the most time at sea with Princess, a record 727 days. That's
over two years at sea! I know Navy men who don't have that much sea
time!

There
were over 1,200 who were on their second Princess cruise, over 400
who were on their third or fourth cruise, and 84 people who were on
their fifth or higher cruise! The official passenger count for this
cruise was 3,224, so over half of the passengers were veterans of
Princess Cruises. Quite a remarkable feat.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

While we were wandering around Oranjestad looking for a drugstore,
another ship docked near the M/S Crown Princess. She immediately caught my eye as we walked back toward the cruise terminal.She looked
vaguely familiar. She's now named the M/S Freewinds but she was
obviously from a long-ago past generation of cruise ships. As I looked at her twin funnels, I realized she was one of the originals. I wondered what she was called back then.

I watched Kloster's original M/S Sunwardand Admiral's M/S Emerald Seas and several others years ago when they sailed out of Miami back in the 70's, one of the benefits of working in downtown Miami for years. They sailed from the modern terminals that were built on Dodge Island to accommodate the new cruise ships, directly across Government Cut from Watson Island where the Goodyear blimp base and the adjacent Chalk's seaplane terminal were located.

A Chalks seaplane takes off in Government cut alongside the M/S Starward, the late 70's

Norwegian Cruise Line's M/S Sunward 1969

I looked at those ships in awe, thinking perhaps when we retired, we too, would cruise the Caribbean. We made sure we took all our northern, out-of-town visitors to Watson Island on Saturdays to watch the cruise ships. They were impressive then, even more so now. The
comparison between the old and the new cruisers is simply
astonishing. The M/S Freewinds looks like a toy, barely
noticeable in the shadow of the towering M/S Crown Princess.

The M/S Crown Princess towers over the M/S Freewinds at dock in Aruba

I
researched the M/S Freewinds when I
got back to the Internet and found she is indeed one of the
original basin-cruisers out of Miami, but she's not one I'm familiar
with. She's the former M/S Bohème which sailed out of Miami
for Commodore Cruise lines back in the late '60's. She was famous
for starting the seven days Caribbean cruises and the first cruise ship
to regularly visit St. Thomas. Today, she is more infamous than
famous, as she is now owned by an arm of the Church of Scientology
and has been the subject of several scandals, including kidnapping
and forced servitude for crew members.

While the M/S Emerald Seas and the beautiful S/S Norway, the former S/S France, were cut
apart for scrap on the beaches in Alang, and the original M/S Sunward
has cruised into historical oblivion, at least the M/S Freewinds
still looks the role of a cruiser from days gone by. [My blog about our odd relationship with the SS Norway is athttp://piddlepaddler.blogspot.com/2012/03/ss-norway.html]

We
slept with the balcony door open and the air conditioning off.
Really nice to wake up to nothing but cool, ocean air. I dressed and headed up
top to watch the sunrise and the approach to Aruba, and was fortunate
to catch one of those golden sunrises you see in travel brochures
just as we approached the city of Oranjestad, Aruba.

The narrowness of the channel is obvious: The Crown Princess is berthed at Aruba.

I was
dumfounded by the narrowness of the channel as we approached the dock
and the angle of the approach to it. This pilot was going to earn
his money or we were going to look like the Costa Concordia. The
Paardenbaai Channel is only 270 meters wide, about 885 feet. In
other words, the ship couldn't possibly turn around in the channel
because the Crown Princess, at 953 feet, is considerably longer the
the channel is wide! And the channel has a bend in the middle to
boot! Fascinated, I watched as the Crown Princess confidently sailed
right up to the wharf where the ship's thrusters took over and pushed
us up gently against the bumpers. If you weren't watching, you would
have no idea we had arrived and docked. By 7:57am, we were secured
at Cruise Terminal “C” in Oranjestad.

The welcome terminal in Oranjestad, Aruba

As
soon as the announcement was made about disembarking, we went to
breakfast. We used the forward gang-plank after eating at the open
buffet, and after checking out of the ship with our room cards,
walked to the welcome center that everyone passes through to access
the buses and taxis waiting to hustle people anywhere they want to
go. The sign hanging over the exit to the buses says, “Welcome to
Aruba, One Happy Island.” I thought to myself, “We'll soon
see!”

As
best we can tell, the sign was right. Again, the people we met were
warm, friendly and easy going. Not everyone we met in town spoke
English, but there was no problem as someone spoke the language or
its close approximation in just about every store we stopped.
Doesn't matter, smiles and a little courtesy do wonders here. Our
first serious stop was the Kong Hing Supermercado grocery store to
pick up water and munchies to sustain us as we wandered around side
streets and local shops before heading back to the main vendor areas
along the waterfront. After fantasy stops at Diesel and other
European outlets, and one pharmacy, we slowly headed back toward the
port.

There
are lots of typical bars that appeal to the carefully maintained
image of Caribbean abandon and lack of sobriety that appeals to the
sunshine and alcohol deprived vacationers from up north. These
places must look better in the dark. We stopped at one for about
three minutes before moving on to one that was closer to the water
and further from the greasy kitchen odors. Pigeons wandered around
the floor of the restaurant we finally selected and yellow finches
freely flew through the outside seating area, landing to serenade
patrons from the power lines strung for the lights. The Heineken
beer I had was three dollars cheaper than the Budweiser I had on the
ship back on day one.

There
is one side trip here I would like to do, so perhaps someday we'll
return just to take the submarine trip, if nothing else. Atlantis
submarines offers underwater tours in a real, Coast Guard approved
submarine just off shore from Oranjestad. Kind of a real glass
bottomed boat tour, well, glass sided boat tour anyway. We saw the
submarine as it was being towed into position to accept guests and it
appeared to be a well done operation. Just something to think about
for next time.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Punda, the heart of the old city is gaily lighted with reds, blues, and greens as dusk settles over Willemstad, Curaçao. We ate
another marvelous dinner on the ship and decided to just relax on the
ship and not go back into town. We later stood on the top deck taking in
one last view of the pretty city before going to the ship's theater and
watching another one of the great shows, the ship's
company version of “Motor City.” This time the dancers had a
flat, level stage to perform on! I still don't see how they do it in heavy seas!

We
headed back up top after the show to catch our last glimpse of
Willemstad as we cast off and headed toward our morning arrival in
near-by Aruba. This departure was quite different from our last port
departure on a Princess ship when we left San Juan on the Star
Princess some eight years before. On that trip, we were adjacent to
a Carnival Cruise lines ship that blared party music almost non-stop.
The Star Princess was comatose by comparison. When we finally slid
out of our berth late that night, it was if the Star Princess was
trying to slip out of a party without being noticed. While the
revelers next door waved goodbye, we slipped silently and morosely
out into the dark harbor. We nick-named that cruise the “Geritol
Cruise.”

This
one was different. We think it was the work of an energetic young
woman we met back on day one when I stopped her on a staircase and asked some inane question about the ship, like, where could I get
writing material. She cheerfully helped as much as possible, and
before being swept away by the throngs that surrounded her. It
turned out to be Lisa Ball, the ship's cruise director. The
“company” part of the cruise was really enjoyable because of her.

To me there are two main parts to cruising: the “natural”
part, ie, ocean, sky, weather, the enjoyment that comes without any
outside influence, and the “company” part, which includes music,
dancing, dining, and entertainment, the part that is supplied or
created by the ship. On the Star Princess, the “natural” part
was outstanding, the “company” part left a lot to be desired.
Not so on the Crown Princess, we enjoyed all parts of the cruise, and
even really didn't mind the rocking and rolling of the heavy seas. Part of the
experience.

The
good news was we enjoyed the “company” part of the cruise this
time as well, and the departure from Willemstad was a showcase for
Lisa Ball's efforts. A huge banner was hung across the top railings
of the pool deck that proclaimed “The Ultimate Deck Party,” which
usually is a warning for poor, loud music, and confused drinkers
who aimlessly wander around looking for something that vaguely looks like a party. This
one was a model for how to throw a deck party properly.

When
Lisa took the microphone on the deck below us (we stayed one deck above
the pool deck) and enthusiastically welcomed everyone to the
world's greatest deck party, we realized the group of young, good
looking people behind her were the ship's dancers who had changed
into casual clothes. Lisa started the dancing by encouraging
everyone around her to follow her lead. Soon the whole side of the
pool she was on was dancing in rhythm, clapping their hands and
really getting into the spirit of the party. As more and more
passengers joined in the dancing, more of the ship's dancers faded
away, and soon, the whole pool deck was a mass of dancing passengers.

Great stuff, lead by the assistant cruise staff who had stepped in
as lead dancers for the entire deck. By the time they got to the
conga line, by now with a live band, there were well over several
hundred passengers enjoying themselves. A great wrap up to a great
day. My wife and I ended up in a piano bar listening to really good
jazz and a great vocalist, the very things we missed on our last
trip. You couldn't tell we were under way as we quietly sailed
northward at 11 knots with trailing wind and a following sea. It is only 100
miles or so to Aruba. No rush, we would be there by 8:00am.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Ah, A
writing pad! One of those old-fashioned lined ones from days of
yore, you know, high school! A kind, but somewhat bewildered
saleslady with a limited knowledge of English, dug out an old white
pad from a stack of paper products near the cash register in a
Willemstad dime store. She looked at me as if I were trying to pull
a fast one, but, took my FL 2.90, about $1.70, without question and
cautiously closed the cash register drawer.

Now,
to catch up. I actually started scribbling while we were having one
of our rare soft drinks in a sidewalk cafe, oddly enough across the
street from a McDonald’s. We had crossed the Queen Emma pontoon
bridge over into Punda, the original section of the city, and spent
several hours poking into shops and stores, generally looking around
acting like tourists when we decided to take a rest break. We were
sitting in the shade, chatting and watching the crowd of tourists that shuffled aimlessly along,
not like us, of course. We were joking
about the McDonalds across the street when a police car rushed up,
quickly parked and blocked the street. Two uniformed officers got
out and headed toward the restaurant. We joked, “Man, they must be
hungry!” but it turned out to be a business call.

They met an
agitated, concerned young woman wearing the traditional McDonald's
management-type uniform on the sidewalk outside the store. We
watched idly as they all disappeared inside. Soon, they all
reappeared on the sidewalk with three young, clean cut, muscular
looking young white men in tow. The tallest of the three had on a
red T-shirt with “Guantanamo Fire Department” emblazoned across
the back. He was obviously not happy, taking photos of both police
officers, their car, the license plates, the manager, and anything else he thought would intimidate the police officers who simply ignored him. The two
police officers addressed the other two men who
stood with their arms folded across their chests. We could only
imagine the confrontation inside the restaurant.

We
finished our drinks and headed back toward the ship, and as we
crossed the street we heard one of the police officers say rather
firmly, “No one is going anywhere until the U.S. consul arrives!”
A good time to speak German.

We
asked a woman we stopped on the street if, by chance, she knew where the
Numismatic Museum is located, the one attraction we all wanted to
visit. That is the coin and money museum run by the Bank of the Netherlands. The lady walked us a complete block out of her way, saying hello to friends
as she went, even stopping to caress a baby of a friend, just to point to the building several blocks away. We
walked right past it coming in and didn't see the sign. We thanked her
and slowly headed in that direction, but got sidetracked once again,
this time by the huge open air vegetable market we could see down a
side street. By the time we reached where the Queen Emma bridge should
be, we realize we have missed the museum once again. Oh well,
something to see next time!

Waiting on the Queen Emma pontoon bridge.

The
Queen Emma bridge wasn't there. It was completely on the other side
of St. Anna Bay. We joined the throngs patiently waiting for a tug
boat to tow an ocean-going freighter slowly up the bay, taking photos
as we waited for the floating pontoon bridge to chug across the river
and reattach to the landing. The bridge is self powered, and within
minutes of the freighter passing, the bridge reopened and hordes of
pedestrians crossed the bridge in both directions.

We
finally bought our goodies at the shops we knew to have the lowest prices,
we never buy going in to town, only coming out after we know prices,
and we picked up a bottle of blue Curaçao liqueur for a friend.
Of course we bought the prerequisite trinkets and mementos, stuff that
always ends up in a junk drawer somewhere, but, hey, that's one reason
we're here.